Before I could answer, Rusty cut in. “Yeah, sure. I could use a cold one, just as soon as we finish eatin’.”
Wyatt smiled and put a heavy hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”
Rusty nodded, mouth full of burrito. “Shoot.”
Wyatt leaned in to him and pointed at me, like he was being secretive, then whispered loud enough for me to hear. “She’s, like, your sister or something, right?”
Rusty took a drink from his soda and smiled. “Nope. Not my sister. Thanks for askin’, though.” I rolled my eyes. He was enjoying this.
Wyatt’s shoulders slumped a bit, and I tried to hide my smile. “Just checkin’, bro.” He turned to go. “Well. You guys cruise on over when you’re done, anyway. We got beers. Lots of ’em.”
“Will do.” Rusty patted him on the shoulder. “And hey. She’s not my girl either—just my friend’s little sister.”
Wyatt’s smile returned, and he fixed his brown eyes on me. “In that case, what’s your name?” He smiled lazily, waiting for me to finish chewing, and I decided he was cute enough to humor him. I swallowed, then looked right at him. “Honor.”
He rested against the picnic table next to me and made no effort to keep from leaning into me. “Honor . . .” He said it with great reverence, then pursed his lips together a second. I figured he was about to ask me where the name came from, or make a guess at it, because that’s what most people did when I first met them. Instead, he looked me over, beginning with my face, made it all the way down to my feet, and paused, almost imperceptibly, at my chest on his way back up to my eyes. And then he said, with complete seriousness, “I like your boots.”
A mouthful of soda erupted from Rusty’s mouth. I looked at Wyatt, completely speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or slap him. It was a good line, especially because they did happen to be my favorite boots.
Wyatt was unfazed when he pushed off the table and looked to Rusty. “Beer’s over there. Come when you’re done.” Then he pointed to me with a grin. “You too, boots.” With that he turned and did his swagger-stagger back to his pass-through. Just before he ducked through the bushes, he looked back at us and grinned another drunken grin. “Superhot.”
Then he was gone.
I looked over at Rusty, who had composed himself and was now wiping the soda off his jeans. After a second, we both burst out laughing. And we kept going, probably for longer than it warranted, but it felt good to laugh. It was the first time I really had in the two weeks since I’d heard about Finn. And it was the first point in the day that felt like, just maybe, life could find a new normal.
After a minute I leaned back, elbows on the table, and looked up for the twinkle of the first star in the evening sky. When we were little, it was a ritual Finn and I did on the front porch. He’d make his wish silently, and I would too, but I never could keep a secret; and I’d tell him what I wished every time. He’d always tell me it wouldn’t come true if I told, but I didn’t believe him. I’d had plenty of them come true, from a new box of crayons showing up out of nowhere to a bag of candy left on my bed. It had been a while, though, and the only thing I’d wish for now was impossible. I found the first star in a patch of burnt-orange sky, above the crinkly purple mountains in the distance, and then I wished my brother back anyway.
Rusty leaned back next to me and sighed. “I’m sorry, H, about earlier. I—”
“Don’t worry about it. Finn probably would have wanted you along anyway. . . .” I let my words drift off. I didn’t want to talk about him right now, and I got the feeling Rusty didn’t either, so I sat up. “So. You think that guy was drunk?”
“Hope so.” Rusty sat back up. “Good line about the boots, though. Too bad he has no idea how bad your feet stink under those things.”
I smacked him on the thigh. “You really are an ass.” But it was true, and I had to laugh. “Just don’t tell him, or it’ll ruin my superhotness.”
We finished up our fast-food Mexican feast, crumpled the greasy yellow papers, and stretched our legs again. By the time we headed to the trail between the campsites, the sky had deepened to indigo dotted with glittering stars. A thin layer of campfire smoke hung above us, creating just enough haze to soften the night sky, and I paused a moment to soak in the serenity of it all before I ducked my head through the bushes.
Wyatt was the first one I saw standing beside the crackling campfire. His face lit up, and he stumbled a few steps toward me. “It’s my dream girl.” He offered his hand again, and this time I obliged with my own. He took it lightly and led me toward his friends, smiling back at me instead of looking where he was going. I opened my mouth to warn him about the rocks bordering the fire, but he tripped over them and pitched backward. I yanked hard on his hand, and at the last second he caught himself. Then he looked at me with another wry grin. “For you I would burn.”
I couldn’t not laugh. Even if his lines were cheesy, his eyes were warm and sincere, and it was nice to be flirted with. As Rusty ducked through the bushes behind me, Wyatt raised an eyebrow at him. Then he turned to the guy and girl sitting in lawn chairs around the fire and said, “So you all know, she’s just his friend’s little sister.” He winked at me, then sat-fell back into his own chair by the fire and picked up a beer.
The girl stood and came over to me, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about Wyatt. He’s kind of a lightweight. Two beers and he becomes the world’s biggest dumbass.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it. “I’m Corrie.” She gestured at the guy who was still sitting by the fire. “And that’s Sam, Wyatt’s older brother.”